


if we could start again, my love, would we survive?

by mirroroflit (volunteer_of_hufflepuff)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 3x22, Angst, Canon Divergence, F/F, Memory Loss, Shadowhunters: The Ficlet Instruments, Week 3: Abstract Reverie, obligatory making it gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 06:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volunteer_of_hufflepuff/pseuds/mirroroflit
Summary: There is something familiar about Maia.But Clary Fray, passionate art student, can’t seem to figure it out..Or: where Clary and Maia run into each other at a paint store, and then some, and Clary can’t remember the life that used to be.A canon divergence where Clary still forgets, but she loved Maia, and that is who she cannot completely let go of.





	if we could start again, my love, would we survive?

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [sh_ficletinstruments](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sh_ficletinstruments) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Painting: "Abstract Reverie" by Magdalena Morey.
> 
> .
> 
> art, in my mind, is so intrinsically linked to Clary. hope you enjoy [beware of the angst]!

It starts with a can of paint.

Burgundy, actually, though you wouldn’t be able to tell from its drab white outside.

They reach for it at the same time.

The other person, warm brown skin and tight black curls, curses.

There’s a smattering of yellow paint on their cheek and a periwinkle blue checkered scarf in their hair.

Clary lets go. “Ah, so what are you painting?”

They frown.

Clary knows that line wasn’t in the running for smoothest line ever, but she did think it was adequate, at the very least.

“My restaurant.”

The answer is blunt, almost cutting.

There’s something familiar in the glare of their eyes.

“Do I know you?” Clary asks.

They shudder, slightly. “No,” they say, but the answer is too quick.

Clary holds out her hand anyway. “Clary, she/her pronouns.”

Reluctantly, they shake it. “Maia, she/her pronouns as well.” Her nose wrinkles, and Clary can’t help but think that it is awfully cute.

“So,” Clary continues, “how is your restaurant?”

Maia sighs, but she doesn’t walk away.

.

Next time they meet, there is a dizzying blur that speeds past her.

She thinks she can smell the homebrand deodorant Simon wore, but that is ridiculous.

Simon is dead.

“Hey," she says, smiling, shifting her bag around. “Maia! It’s so good to see you again.”

Maia tenses. “You too,” she replies, but it is still curt.

Clary doesn’t linger on why it hurts so.

Clary fidgets with the strap of her paint-splattered bag. “So, what are you doing this afternoon?”

Maia’s gaze drifts up towards the door. “I’d love to stay and chat, Clary, but there are things I need to do.”

She sweeps past Clary, something sweet filling the air that makes Clary’s stomach twist.

She doesn’t know what.

.

“Luke, I’m sorry but we can’t - yes I know it’s only me - it hurts me too, I -”

“Maia?”

Maia blinks, before hanging up.

“Clary?” she hisses. “What are you doing here?”

Clary can’t help but frown. “Walking to college?”

She doesn’t dare speak of how the soft voice of the man Maia was speaking to reminds her of her dead father.

.

Clary dreams in vivid colour.

A wedding, gleaming and gold.

A burgundy dress, and thick black lines burning off her skin.

The cries of a lover lost.

.

The last time Clary sees Maia, it is fall.

It is her art exhibition, and Clary’s newly cut bangs are almost falling into her eyes.

Maia is wearing a floral dress with gold strapped heels.

She is beautiful.

And, because this isn’t a place of coincidence but of intention, Clary approaches her.

“Hey, Maia.”

“Clary,” Maia says, burgundy nails glittering underneath the artificial lights.

“Would you like to go on a date sometime?”

The words tumble out, brimming with hope.

Maia closes her eyes, almost as if in pain. “No, Clary, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

And as she walks out, Clary thinks she sees Maia’s eyes glow green, and her heart pangs with an inexplicable loss.

**Author's Note:**

> how'd you like it? all feedback appreciated!
> 
> [tumblr ](https://mirrorofliterature.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mirroroflit)


End file.
